Chapter 25 New Magic

"I will go look for other blacksmiths later," Bartrem said. "What I need now is a healing potion. The wounds they suffered won't heal."

Aldred looked at his comrades who had their shoulders wrapped in bandages. His godly eyes told him that some strange substances are gnawing at the wound.

He frowned. That substance looked familiar. "Bartrem, can you show me the ointment that you gave them earlier?"

Bartrem thought he should teach the boy about military ethics. It was strictly said that anyone under the Knight Rank should call them sir. If they did not do it then the Knight Rank had the permission to punish them.

Even though Aldred was still a boy, the other Knight Rank might take that chance to punish him because he was under the empress's protection. Pharder could not punish him because everyone watched his every move, but a random knight might still punish Aldred to give him a bad time.

Bartrem took out the small container and gave it to Aldred. "Boy, if you want to call a Knight Rank, make sure you call them with sir. This is for your own good."

Mary was about to tell him that. It seemed Bartrem cared about the boy. That was good. She didn't have to worry too much about his safety then.

Aldred nodded. He kept in mind what Bartrem said. The military usually had strict rules. If Bartrem told him to call a knight sir, then he had to from now on.

"Yes, sir."

He opened the container and scanned the ointment. And his suspicion was correct. The substances that damaged the tissue of his comrades were from this ointment. "Sir, where do you get this ointment?"

"I got it from the alchemist. Why?"

Aldred pulled out a strand of grass. "Take a look at this." He smeared the ointment onto the grass. At first, there was nothing, but in a few seconds the tip of the grass shortened, then it got even shorter like something was eating it.

"How is this possible?" Bartrem widened his eyes.

Aldred dropped the ointment and let the content fall to the grass. Immediately, all the grass around it got devoured and then it spread.

All of them looked at each other. They all understood the cause of why the wounds would not heal. The question was, who gave Bartrem that ointment?

"It was given to me by the alchemist."

"Seems like everyone is out to kill us," Aldred said.

Bartrem frowned, not just because of the situation, but how Aldred stayed calm. The more he looked at him, the more he doubted this boy was ten-year-old.

Aldred was used in a situation like this. Back then, everyone was out to rob him and made his day terrible. That time he slept under the bridge peacefully, yet someone grabbed a rock and threw it at his head. He never did anything to them. He did not even know who they were. But one thing he sure know was that the world always find a way to fuck him up.

Getting angry every time might fuck him up even more. What he needed to do now was to learn the lesson and tried to find a solution. At first, it was hard not to feel resentful toward the people that did him wrong. But the more he think about it, he realized it was not their fault. Their mindset and behavior were shaped by their environment. A flower would grow well with healthy soil and enough water. But it would decay without sunlight.

The environment, in this case, was the government. In plain sight, they looked like they care for the minority like him. But whenever he asked for help, they showed a smile to the media and said yes, but their help never came.

The donation rounded from all over the world was taken by them. It was simply a show. A show to make the image of a hero for their nation, but what lay beneath was darkness and suffering.

Aldred did not have the power to do anything at that time. No. He lied. He did not have the courage. Mary was once a simple woman, now she was a warrior with power. The empress was forcibly married and once was a doll for the emperor, but now she was a powerful woman with great influence.

What did they have that he did not. Was it wealth? Was it talent? No. It was simply bravery.

Bravery to take that step forward.

Aldred had decided. He wanted kill the emperor and change the system. He'd ensure that all live well whether they were a peasant or a squire, whether they were male or female. All should be equal under the sky. Only with talents, competence, and drive shall people reach the top.

"We should wash the wound with water. We cannot let that ointment stay inside the wound or it will eat your whole arm."

The soldiers nodded in pain.

"No need to do that. I can fix the problem," Aldred said. "Please open the bandage for me."

The soldiers were skeptical. Aldred was after all a boy. What could he do to help them?

"Do what he said," Bartrem ordered. Aldred found out the cause of the problem with a glance. There was something special about this boy.

The soldiers nodded and opened their bandages. A nasty smell permeated the air. The wound had become much larger than before. Green pus leaked out of the wound.

"Quick, boy! Whatever you planned to do, do it now!" Bartrem worried for his soldiers. It was his fault that they suffered like this. If he wasn't their leader, Pharder would not do this to them.

Aldred put his palm over the wound. His hand glowed. "Brace yourself."

A hot beam shot out of his palm for a fraction of a second.

The soldiers let out a groan of pain. Veins bulged on his forehead. The beam seared a part of his wound. It was very painful. Aldred could tell that by his expression. But the substances disappeared. The wound looked much cleaner and the pus was no more.

"It worked!" Mary said.

The other soldiers immediately knelt on one knee to make it easier for Aldred to use his magic. He fired at their wound one by one and they then gritted their teeth in pain.

Bartrem checked their wound and nodded. "It looked much better now."

Mary, Bartrem, and the soldiers looked at him.

"How did you know that the ointment was the cause?" Bartrem asked.

"I don't think a wound that shallow should be any problem. Without any ointment, it will heal by itself. So I speculated that the problem must be in the ointment," Aldred lied.

"That bastard," Bartrem raged. He calmed himself down after a few seconds. He act this way because Aldred was so calm. It affected him in someway. Getting angry wasn't good either. What would he do? Punched the alchemist in the face? Pharder would laugh as he gave him an excuse to remove Bartrem from this fort.

"I know an alchemist we can trust. He's new here, so Pharder might not influence him yet."

Aldred wanted to see what an alchemist do, so when Feval brought his soldier to the workshop of alchemist, he followed. The place looked liked a medicine store but in medieval style. Wood was the primary material for most of the structure. The furniture, shelves for all kinds of bottles were all made of wood. A medicinal scent entered his nose.

He had only smelled something like that once in his life, because he never had enough money to afford medicine. Most of the money he spend on food. Even with that, he only afford one meal a day.

"Frey," Bartrem called.

An old man strode out of a room with tall and proper stature. He stood like a trained butler with a dignified bearing. Maybe he served a noble before he was sent here. His skins was pale white with short, gray hair. His body was slim, but not skinny. More like lean athletic.

"How can I help you?" he said with a tone nice to the ear.

"My men need some healing potion. Tell me you have some."

Frey nodded. "Certainly." He rummaged through the shelves and grabbed a green potion. "Pour this to the wound and it will heal in no time."

Aldred wanted to know more about these potions. He wondered if there was a potion for back pain. Back in the day, he used to a stiff back. "Excuse me."

Frey moved his eyes at him. Suddenly, he felt threatened. It was like being stared down by a snake. But the feeling was only for a moment, so Aldred was not sure.

"What do you need, young boy?"

"Is there any potion for back pain?"

Bartrem looked at him. "You have back pain? At such a young age?"

"Since when did you have it?" Mary asked. Aldred seemed healthy since the first day she saw him. Was it because he fell to the bathroom? His backbone might break on that day. Mary felt bad for not considering that.

"I don't have it. But I want to prepare for the future."

Mary sighed in relief to hear that. It'd be terrible if Aldred got a broken spine or something. "You worried me there."

Aldred smiled at her. He was touched by her affection. Not only did she save him from the wolves that day, but she kept on caring for him. He'd had to pay her back someday. She had done so much for him.

"In that case, I have something for you," Frey said. He explored the shelves again and picked a small bottle. "Just drink this before you sleep. It will do good for your spine."

"Can I have some?" Mary asked. "To be honest my shoulders have become very stiff lately."

What she did not say was the cause of her stiff shoulder was her breast. Ever since she breastfeed Aldred, her breast produced more and more milk, and it became heavier by the day. The only way to relieve the pain was to breastfeed Aldred. She had to do that later tonight.

Frey grabbed another bottle with a different color. "Because you are much older than the boy, you will have to use this potion."

Medicine was quite advanced here. They even split the medicine by age. Maybe they also split it by gender, but Aldred did not want to ask that since it was quite a sensitive topic in this empire. That reminded him of the real world. Didn't the country also have a fierce debate about gender equality?

Meh. He did no want to think much about his past life. It was all filled with misery. He should think about the fun stuff such as sleeping with Mary. That was a good start.

Bartrem opened the lid on the potion bottle and held one of the soldier's arms. He pour it slightly, the green liquid fell on the wound, then it washed over it. Tissues, fat, cells, and muscles regenerated. It happened quickly. The skin covered it at the end.

Aldred took it back. Medicine here was much more advanced. Modern earth did not have the technology to regrow tissue that fast. With that wound, the doctors would probably suggest the patient to amputate the arm.

Bartrem poured it on all the soldiers. They moved their arms up and down and rolled their shoulders. They smiled after feeling no pain or discomfort.

"Thank you, Frey," Bartrem said.

"It is my duty to help you regarding medicine."

Bartrem sighed. "And this might be the last time you treat us properly."

Bartrem brought the others to leave the workshop. Aldred called it a workshop because he did not know what to call it. Drugstore? Pharmacy? He asked Bartrem.

"You can call them whatever. Medicine place. Potion store. Calling it a store isn't right either since we're not buying. The potions are there for the soldiers, so we don't have to pay anything."

Aldred shrugged. He'd just call them medicine hall, alchemy workshop, or something like.

They returned to their barracks. His comrades went inside to rest. Bartrem promised them to train later by noon so they took some time to sleep before that. Meanwhile, Joseph and Jeffery were in the stances that Aldred had shown them. They repeated the swing, the posture, and the footings.

"They're so hardworking," Aldred said.

Bartrem nodded. "They are. They worked more than anyone I know. Yet, their skill never impro—Hmm? That stance. I never see that stance before."

Joseph swung forward with a powerful force that surprised Bartrem. That was not the stance that he taught. Joseph and Jeffery had always failed to follow his lesson. They never understood his movement or his stance. And yet, where did their stance come from? It effectively fit their stature like someone made that stance just for them.

Bartrem wanted to ask, but he did not want to disturb them. It was already good enough that they already improved.

Noon came and Pressure Platoon II started their training. Despite working out since morning, Joseph and Jeffery were energized. They managed to keep up with the others as they jogged, push up, sit up, lifting boulders, swinging a sword for hundreds of times, etc.

Aldred was training with them. Bartrem told him that he did not have to, but he wanted to join anyway. Mary was with him. She trained him in swords before because she did not know he was a magician.

Aldred could learn martial art too because he was blessed by the hundred gods so he had talents in very much anything. But he wanted to focus on magic first because he believed it was a better choice. He was still a ten-year-old, so he was shorter and smaller than most of his opponents who were usually bulked soldiers.

If he fought them, he would be at a disadvantage. So, for now. Magic was a good choice. He would learn martial art or sword art skill if he found a good one in the future.

That said, he decided to upgrade his Fireball skill into Fire Projectile.

"Fire arrow."

His palm lit up and blazed in flame. The flame moved and condensed before turning into an arrow. It shot forward, stabbing a wooden target. The arrow disappeared immediately after. It looked weak at first, but it was much stronger than the fireball. The wooden target had a burt hole in them. If it hit a human, they would surely be in great pain.

After seeing the result, he decided to pour all his stat points on intelligence.

———

[Aldred]

Health Points: 40/40

Level: 19

Titles: Depressed boy

Power:

-Fireball: Lv. 2

-Flame Jet: Lv. 1

Attributes:

-Strength: 8

Vitality: 8

-Intelligence: 36

-Dexterity: 4

Stat points: 0

Skill points: 32

———

"Fire arrow!"

Powerful energy condensed in his palm, turned into a flame, then it became an arrow before zipping towards the wooden target. The fire arrow went deep inside, then consumed the wood in fire.

His comrades were shocked. For a few seconds, they stopped their training and looked at him. Bartrem shouted at them to continue. Aldred's development was too fast. One time he cast a normal fire arrow, the next his arrow was so powerful that the entire wood was consumed by fire.

Aldred realized something. When he increased his intelligence, he understood all the laws and all the concepts about his Fire Projectile skills. The skill let him manipulate the fire element into projectiles such as javelin, arrows, or even bullets. It depended on his imagination and understanding of its laws.

Upgrading the skill did not necessarily increase the damage output, but it revealed a variety of control. The system told him that he could control the movement of the projectile in mid-air when he upgraded his skill to level 3.

Sadly, that required more points in intelligence.

———

Upgrade cost: 5

Fire projectile = level 3

-Able to divert or change the direction of the projectile in mid-air. Also able to make it spin to create more damage.

Requirement: 45 intelligence

———

Night came, and Pressure Platoon II entered their barrack.

A young beautiful woman stared at the boy with a sweet smile as she stood on the rooftop. The three moons lit up her silver hair as it fell down to her waist. The boy entered the barrack with a woman who seemed to be his mother.

"What is his name, Frey?"

"Aldred."

"Aldred." She smiled. "What a beautiful name."

"Princess Velika, why do have to disguise ourselves just for this. That boy is not good enough for you."

"You always said about every else."

"And I was correct. I was correct about all of them."

Velika snorted. The moon shone on her pale white skin. Frey was right. All of them betrayed her. She glanced at the barrack. "That boy is different, Frey. I can feel it."

"You said the same thing about the others, Princess."

"No. I truly can feel it here." She held both of her hands on her chest. "My heart beat like never before when I see him."

Frey sighed. He did not want Princess Velika to cry and be disappointed again.

"By the way Frey, what medicine did you give to the boy?"

"It was a simple medicine, Princess."

Velika stared at him as she raised an eyebrow. Her expression told 'I wasn't born yesterday.'

Frey sighed once again. "It was an arousal medicine."

"That's so cruel. He wouldn't sleep all night because of that."

"He could if he do that," Frey gave the princess a side glance.

"Ugh. That's his mother."

"Not from what I hear."

"She's not the mother?"

"Unlikely."

Velika frowned. She stared hard at the barrack. Her eyes spun and it turned crimson deep. The rooftop became transparent to her eyes, and she saw Aldred drinking milk from a… milk source. The lady was asleep.

Suddenly, Aldred frowned and stopped drinking the milk. Apparently, the boy was asleep too when he suc… consumed the milk from the milk source.

Sweat streamed from his forehead. The boy must have started dreaming because of the arousal medicine. It was a very well-known medicine, but rarely did anyone openly admit using it. The effect of the medicine was to create a wet dream for those who consume it. It was quite popular with men, but this medicine was also infamous to disrupt the sleep pattern, so people limit how many times they used it.

The boy's pants bulged. It had started.

"Poor boy. Having a wet dream before he could even turn into a teenager," Velika said.

Suddenly, the bulge in his pants grew bigger again. Velika raised an eyebrow, but something happened that shocked her even more. His dong-dong tore through the fabric, and then grew so large and so long it broke through the rooftop, it kept on going to the sky, piercing through a cloud. Eventually, it struck one of the moons and created a small hole in there.

Frey got his jaw dropped when he saw this.

And Velika's white pale skin got even paler.

The dong-dong retracted, and there was a sticky liquid that fell on Velika's hand. It was sticky, slimy, and a little bit smelly too.

"This is not ordinary rain," Velika said before licking the white liquid thing.

"Princess, don't! Haish, too late."

"What? What is it?"

"No, it's better for you not to know, Princess." Frey sighed. Even though Velika knew about the wet dream, she did not know what a boy or man produced after that dream.